


Crazier

by medjackjeff (zephyr_lynx)



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyr_lynx/pseuds/medjackjeff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho and Newt bicker - a lot.<br/>But it never grew to proportions where Newt just stood up and left.<br/>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazier

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a fic I wrote back in February for Valentine's Day. I reread it and surprisingly enough, I don't hate it. And since I've decided to transfer most of my work from Tumblr onto here, here you go! 
> 
> The title's taken from the Taylor Swift song of the same name.

Newt was the one to run out the door and slam it loudly behind him in this relationship.

It was something Minho had never wanted to find out.

But it was too late now. He was trembling with anger and felt the violent urge to punch the next wall. He compromised by throwing himself onto the couch, giving a cushion a blow.

He let his head hang. It wasn’t like it surprised him.

He and Newt had always been an explosive combination, always bickering, always fighting. It had just been a question of time when that bomb would go off.

But _shit_. Having known this would happen eventually didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Minho buried his face in both his hands, covering it up completely. A few hot tears trickled down his skin. Newt was the one person who knew him best, and hence the only human being who knew exactly what to say to hurt Minho in the most vulnerable places. And he wasn’t as good with words as Newt was, had gotten angry and lost his mind.

And now he was here. On the shuckin’ couch, all by himself. Great job screwing up the first relationship that had actually lasted.

Minho stayed like that for a few minutes, tolerating the tears slowly rolling down his arms. He had always known letting someone so close to him, letting Newt gradually step past all his defences until the only thing left was a vulnerable, exposed man who’d fallen in love and hadn’t find his way out of that mess again, and after a time didn’t want to, was a bad idea. This must be what a broken heart felt like.

No wonder so many songs were written about this. It shuckin’ sucked.

 _Feelings. What a klunk_.

Minho probably would’ve pursued that train of thought if the mention of feelings hadn’t dug up an old idea.

It had been Newt’s, actually, just a couple weeks after they’d moved in together. They’d had their first more or less big fight – though it didn’t compare in the least to the situation right now – about the oven (“Minho, you almost set the bloody kitchen on fire!”), and afterwards, Newt had made a proposition _._

_Okay, that’s the ultimate proof that it won’t be bloody sunshine and ponies with us. I’ve read about this…thing. We both separately write or record something we like about the other and put it in a jar or something. And when we’re having a fight, a real one, we bust that jar open and look at what the other made. Maybe it’ll soothe us.”_

Needless to say, Minho had found that idea stupid, and he’d ended up filming a video anyways.

Well, if this hadn’t been a real fight…Minho stood up and went to look for that jar.

* * *

 

He felt a sting in his heart as soon as he looked at the content of the box. Two USB keys. One was his. The other one must then, if his impeccable detective skills didn’t deceive him, be from Newt. They both had had the same stupid idea. Shuck.

He got the laptop, put it on their bed and looked at it for a long moment. Then, with new determination, he plugged the USB stick in.

It contained just one file, simply called ‘minho.qt’. He clicked on it.

Newt’s face appeared on the screen, his blond hair long, the way it had been a year ago. Nostalgia hit Minho in the gut.

His boyfriend adjusted the camera of the laptop a little and then sat back on their bed. He scrutinized the camera for a few seconds before leaning back and opening his mouth.

“Well, if you’re seeing this, you must’ve fucked up pretty badly.”

To Minho’s own surprise, this opening sentence made him laugh. He felt a bit of his anger just wash away.

But after the sarcastic start, Newt obviously became more embarrassed, less self-secure. He tried to form a coherent sentence, and failed - he was talking nonsense, and for some reason, Minho found that adorable.

At the end, Newt just sighed deeply and ran both his hands through his hair. “Okay…I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Good Lord. I hope – I _really_ hope – that our fight, whatever it was, doesn’t keep you from appreciating what I’m about to do. I hope you know how much you mean to me with the level of ridiculousness you’re about to see. Really, I’m not degrading myself for the first moron who comes along. So…yeah, consider yourself a special moron. Shuck, what am I talking. I’ll just continue and slim it.”

Minho broke into loud laughter as Newt picked up a guitar from the ground, gently setting it down on his thighs. Then, he looked up and into the camera as if he was on the Office.

“Min, stop laughing. You and I both know that’s what you’re doing right now, you bloody slinthead.”

His boyfriend laughed harder before a lump got suddenly stuck in his throat. Newt knew him so, so well.

On the screen, his boyfriend played the first chord. Minho could see that his cheeks showed a tinge of red. Well, what was coming now?

“This is the song ‘Crazier’ by Miss Taylor Swift. Which we both know is an awesome artist, even though neither of us wants to admit it, stubborn assholes that we are. Anyways. She has a great way with words. Not sure if I can put it better than her, so I won’t even try.”

Newt started to play again, and Minho went absolutely silent. He knew Newt could play the guitar, of course he did, but he’d never sung for him. It truly was a first.

 _“I’ve never gone with the wind. Just let it flow, let it take me, where it wants to go.’Til you opened the door. There’s so much more, I’d never seen it before. I was trying to fly, but I couldn’t find wings. Then you came along and you changed everything.”_ He was lost in the lyrics, absorbed in them, but they didn’t feel empty. Newt made them his own, and not just with his gorgeous English accent. _“You lift my feet off the ground, spin me around - you make me crazier, crazier. Feels like I’m falling and I am lost in your eyes. You make me crazier, crazier, crazier.”_

Minho listened in amazement through the entire song. As soon as it was finished, he rewound the video to hear it all over again.

He did that three times in a row, before he noticed the video wasn’t finished after the song.

Newt leaned back and shot a glance at the camera. His face was flushed completely now, and Minho couldn’t help but smile lovingly at the screen.

“So…this was my contribution. The cheesiest, corniest, bloody stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and if that doesn’t solve our argument, I don’t know what will. Hopefully, you’ll never ever have to see this. But since I know us, you’ll eventually end up watching this humiliation. It’s just…shuck, Minho. Whatever shit we’re going through whenever you’ll see this…don’t give up on us. You’re the one who’s better at that. I’ll probably need some more time, because…well, because I’m a bloody idiot. But…Min…our relationship is worth fighting for. Remind me of that. Being with you…it makes me happy. I want you to know that. And now I’ll stop this video before I embarrass myself even more. So…bye, I guess?”

Minho stared at the black screen for a long time before letting himself fall back onto the bed and covering his eyes with his palms.

* * *

 

He only got up again when he heard the bedroom door being pushed open tentatively. Newt was standing in the doorframe, his face not angry red anymore, but pale with tiredness.

He ran both his hands through his blond hair, just like he had in the video, and Minho just felt the urge to leap forward and wrap his arms around him.

He resisted.

The two of them just looked at each other, until Newt broke the silence. “You got to the jar, huh?”

Minho just nodded and watched his boyfriend walk over to the bed, sit down next to him. He listened to the sound of his breathing for a few seconds before: “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Newt tilted his head at him. “Then why do we always end up doing it? Minho, I’m sick of us constantly head-butting. Maybe…damn, maybe it just shouldn’t be. Maybe we just let it…whatever we are…get out of control.”

Minho needed a moment to let Newt’s words sink in. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

“I don’t know. Am I?” Newt asked, and his voice trailed off.

His boyfriend looked over, waited until the Brit returned the glance. “Someone once told me that we - what we have - are worth fighting for.”

Newt raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s awfully cheesy. Who was that moron?”

Minho pointed at the laptop. “You.”

Newt looked at him, a faint glimmer of recognition in his dark eyes. He parted his lips to say something, but Minho put his finger on his mouth. He needed just a split second to take a decision. With his free hand, Minho reached behind himself and grabbed the other USB key, his own.

He held it in front of Newt’s face. “I watched your video. It’s your turn now. Before we…decide anything else. I’m not giving you up just like that.”

He could see the surprise in Newt’s eyes, and he could understand it. He’d skipped the arguing part and been dead serious. Not his usual mode of behaviour.

His eyes followed Newt’s long, skilful fingers as he put the USB stick into the laptop and opened the video file – ‘ihavenoideawhatimdoing.qt’. Minho mentally facepalmed.

Newt folded his legs beneath him as the Minho from a year ago appeared on the screen.

“Okay…Newt - I don’t know where to start. I mean, if you’re seeing, this, I probably did something dumb. Really dumb. And I don’t know. How to act. What to say. I suck at putting things into words – you’ve always been better at that. You probably do something imaginative. And I’m just here. Sitting on the couch. In my most washed-out Nirvana shirt. Talking with no idea where I’m heading. I’m just…man, Newt. You and I have been through so much shit together. And we’ve always been screwing with each other…metaphorically and literally.”

Newt let out a little laugh.

“And sometimes, I think we forget each other about that. Shit, Newt, I’ve never had something even remotely resembling a relationship for as long as we’ve been together. And you and I moved in together, do you even realize how big of a step that was?? Still _is_? Man, I’m just…”

His cheeks got darker, and in front of the screen, Newt shot Minho a quick glance. He was watching himself in obvious pain, embarrassment written over his features.

“…shuck, this is harder than expected.”

Video-Minho buried his face in his hands before looking to the camera again.

“Okay, I’ve found my point. Where I want to get at. And I can’t believe that I’m telling this a shuckin’ laptop before I tell it a human being. It’s something I’ve known for a while now. And honestly, I don’t know if I can do it. If I’ll ever be able to say it to your face because, well, I suck at feelings. But you know that. You’ve always known me better than anyone else. But there’s a thing I know, and I have not the slightest clue if you’re aware of that. It’s that…uhm…you know…no, you actually don’t, that’s why I’m rambling around like the last idiot.”

Minho looked into the camera, and Newt felt his heart jump at the look in his eyes.

“My point being…I love you. There. Said it. On shuckin’ tape – metaphorically speaking. I’m in love with you, you British slinthead. And really, if that doesn’t break up what stupid thing we’ve again been locking horns over…I don’t know. Maybe we’ve reached the end then.”

On the screen, Minho fell silent.

Newt realized he’d never heard his boyfriend talk for that long. And it seemed like screen-Minho had completely ran out of words, too, since he didn’t say anything anymore, just switched off the camera.

After a while of silence, Newt turned around. Minho averted his eyes, didn’t dare to look up.

“Minho?” Newt reached out and pulled Minho’s chin up so that he was looking at him.

To Minho’s surprise, he could see concern in these familiar dark eyes, insecurity, fear.

“Does any of what you just said…said a year ago…does that still…you know…count?” Newt said, for once not master of his own words.

Minho almost laughed. Was Newt, of all people, asking if he still loved him?

But he knew his boyfriend meant the question, and so he just leaned into Newt’s fingers still touching his chin.

“Isaac.” Newt looked at Minho, pupils big as saucers. He only used the Brit’s real name if he was truly, absolutely serious. “You are, through some tragic, twisted turn of faith, the shuckin’ most important person in my messed-up life. And that won’t change that fast, no matter how much we fight, shank. Hell, you sang ‘Crazier’ for me! How can you expect me to be heartless after that?” Minho cupped Newt’s cheeks and gently bumped their noses together.

His boyfriend gave a shrewd grin. “You really can’t say it to my face, can you?”

Minho decided to play oblivious, though he knew it was stupid. Maybe Newt was right – he did have stubbornness issues. “What?”

Newt’s smile softened. “I love you. And we’ll have to sort out that stupid fight some time later, but right now, I’d rather kiss you, if-!”

He was cut off by Minho’s lips on his. Newt smiled and kissed him back, his hands moving along his jawline to wrap around his boyfriend’s neck.

“Moron.” Newt breathed hard against Minho’s lips.

“Slinthead.” Minho whispered back with a grin. How easily they could go back to normal. And still, it felt different, and they both knew it.

He closed his eyes as Newt parted his lips with his and deepened the kiss. Right now, fighting really was the last thing on his mind.

* * *

 

Later that night, Newt had his back turned to him, his calm breathing telling Minho that he was sound asleep.

“You know I love you, too, don’t you?” he whispered into the dark.

He almost jumped as Newt shuffled in the sheets, his voice low and sleepy. “Min, I’ve known that longer than you have.”

“You have?”

Newt turned around to face him, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “You were probably too stubborn to notice.”

Minho sighed deeply. “Can’t argue with that.”

They just looked at each other for a long moment.

“So, any chance you’re repeating that singing and guitar-playing live for me one time? I mean, I’ve said my part. What about you?”

Newt groaned. “Why do I even keep up with you? You’ll drive me crazy one day!”

“You mean _...crazier_?”

Minho grinned goofily – until Newt hit him in the face with a pillow.


End file.
